


Death's Door

by KaenOkami



Category: RWBY
Genre: Ambiguity, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Body Horror, Family, Family Angst, Gen, Horror, Medical Experimentation, Memory Loss, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Near Death Experiences, Post-Volume 5, Suicidal Thoughts, Tags Contain Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 05:57:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13698258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaenOkami/pseuds/KaenOkami
Summary: For Cinder, even death is not the end. But she may have been luckier to have faded into oblivion, after all.





	Death's Door

_“The ill and dying are said to have the most beautiful dreams.”_

\- Eternal Sonata

~0~

Cinder falls. 

It’s different than her last defeat, on Beacon Tower. Everything then had happened so fast that she hadn’t been able to process a thing; even the mind-bending pain is a distant and faded memory to her. Now, the world stops, time slows, and she feels every little sensation with a white-hot intensity: the stinging electricity running serpentine through her head and neck, the sudden freezing air on her exposed scar and socket, and worst of all, the mounting terror flooding her mind that no amount of shock or adrenaline can block out. 

She’s too stunned to flail or twist in the air, or even to cry out. But in the next second, that doesn’t matter one bit. All she can do is watch as Raven Branwen, eyes flaming and expression vengeful, raises her hand and brings the bright blue glow of magic to her palm. And as it flashes, her body _burns_ once again. She’d had a moment to turn away and shield at least half of herself from Ruby’s silver light, but Raven’s ice spreads in half a second. Out from her chest, over her skin, in through her very flesh, until she’s frozen solid, her face forced into a horrified stare and every cell in her body gripped by the cold and howling for release.

It doesn’t come. Her fire is extinguished, unreachable. Raven, the vault’s golden leaves, its pale blue light...Everything blurs away in an instant as she drops into darkness.

She has no idea how long she falls for, no idea how big the chasm is or what may be waiting for her at the bottom. She wonders wildly if there even is a bottom. Yet again, she can’t see, can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t even think. There is nothing else. Her world is quickly narrowed into heavy, shapeless blackness rushing past her, the ice creeping through her veins and numbing her body and mind, and fear, fear, begging, pleading, overpowering fear as she plummets down and down and _down --_

And then finally, without warning, she crashes. 

Despite the size of the chasm -- or, perhaps, because of it -- the shattering of ice and bones does not echo; it is small and insignificant. The impact is shockingly painful, a bright and fierce agony that bursts through her whole being. Out of nowhere, she remembers being very young, the first time she’d gotten the wind knocked out of her. She’d been running too fast, tripped over something in her path and landed hard, stomach-first into a fallen log. It hadn’t actually hurt, but she’d been so shocked and frightened at suddenly not being able to breathe that as soon as she could she had screamed as if in pain. If he was around, her father would have come running, on hearing his normally resilient child make such a noise, but nobody had come, he hadn’t been there, _why was he always gone?!_

Cinder doesn’t -- can’t -- remember. Her mind, her body, it’s all a mess. All she knows now is that same gut-wrenching helplessness, magnified a thousandfold. She tries to look around, but everything is dark and everything is spinning, and she has no idea where she is...or, for that matter, what sort of state she herself is in. She tries to get up, to lift her head or hand at the very least. But she can’t even feel her body, let alone make it move. The silence in her ears is the most piercing she has ever heard. She knows her heart must be pounding but can’t quite feel it, and that only alarms her more. She cannot form coherent thought; though she tries to, desperate to hang on to anything solid and grounding, the pain is only heightening and it’s impossible. It sickens her to her core to beg, but it’s just _too much,_ she can’t do this _again - !_

_Please...Somebody help me...Help me!_

She doesn’t know how long she lays there in the darkness, broken and powerless and terrified. It might have been minutes, it might have been hours, it might have been days, until she hears it. 

_Click. Click. Click._

She knows she’s heard that sound before, but can’t quite tell where, and she can’t even begin to focus enough to figure it out.

_Click. Click. Click._

It’s getting closer, she can tell that much. She tries to turn her neck to see where it’s coming from, but can’t move it one bit. Is she even in one piece anymore? She feels something drop in where she assumes her stomach is, when she realizes that she doesn’t know, but probably isn’t. 

_Click. Click..._

All of a sudden there is something in front of her. She did not see it appear out of the darkness, and it takes her a moment to register it as something other than blurry colors. It’s black and - 

_(silver)_

Gray. It’s gray and shiny, and...Heels. Tall boots, with steel soles and high heels, have stopped in front of her. 

_What? Who...?_

When she manages to turn her eye up to see, she freezes again, this time in sheer disbelief. She has never known this woman; that much has always been clear, sharp as a shard of metal in her heart. But she recognizes that face looking down at her immediately. How many hours had she spent as a child, staring at grainy, worn old photographs, memorizing its every feature? Long hair, so fiery red it seems to glow even in this absolute darkness. The deepest, warmest brown eyes she has ever seen. A face that looks exactly like hers...like hers used to, at least. 

She finds that she still has a voice, albeit one as cracked and broken as her body, when she weakly bursts out, “M...M-Muh... _Mother!”_

Ember Fall smiles, but its fondness is offset by the sorrow in her eyes. She crouches down to get a better look at her daughter, and the long, slender sword at her hips and the black metal bow on her back clink faintly when she moves. 

“That’s right. It’s been quite a while since we last met, hasn’t it?” she says airily, slipping off one metal-plated glove so she can cup Cinder’s scarred cheek. This hand has slaughtered gods-know-how-many people, in cold blood and burning rage, and this voice had been known for its venom and cutting words, not for kindness. But for her, they both are so tender that she’s almost shaking beneath them. “I’m sorry to say, my little devil, but you don’t look all that much better now than you did then.”

Normally, this would be prime opportunity for a quip about how Ember has no room to talk, she was the one who had _died._ But Cinder is still too stunned to do anything more than mumble and whimper as she stares up at her, trying to move closer to her and only succeeding in some painful squirming. All those nights curled up alone in the dark, wide awake and aching for her mother, knowing it was her own fault she would never see her...She’d long since forced herself to stop fantasizing about an impossible dream, that drew her focus away from the dreams she _could_ grab hold of. So how could Ember be here now? 

Ember’s smile fades at the pained noises, and she caresses her daughter’s face in a careful attempt to soothe. “I know, pretty girl, I know,” she coos. “Those worthless pieces of trash put you through the wringer back there, didn’t they? I’d kill them all myself if I could...But never mind that, I guess. It’s over now. I came to get you.”

_To get me? Why? I was..._

Cinder finds that it’s difficult to remember what exactly she had been doing, that it makes her head hurt even worse to even try. A low moan escapes her at the effort, and she unconsciously pushes harder into her mother’s hand. 

“Shhh, you’re okay, come to me,” Ember murmurs, as she bends lower, slipping one arm under Cinder’s shoulders and the other under her legs -- all of which, Cinder is startled to realize, actually seem to be quite intact. (And even slightly movable, too -- where did the ice go?) Discounting the aid of her six-inch heels, Ember is quite small, and despite the valiant attempt at muscles from a lifetime of fighting and training, underneath her jacket she's just that bit too scrawny to be healthy. But she scoops up her daughter easily, as if she were light as a ragdoll, and holds her close. “There, I’ve got you now. Let’s get out of here, shall we? Disgusting place anyway.”

Without waiting for a response, Ember turns on her heel and starts to carry her off, back into the darkness. She seems perfectly content about what she’s doing, but Cinder finds herself completely at a loss as to what to think and what to do. In any case, this is her mother; so of course she must show respect. But more importantly, Ember’s arms around her are strong and safe...The sensation is so overwhelming that it just about crushes her lingering fear and confusion, slows down the gears in her head still frantically trying to piece together what’s happening. 

“Ah...Ghh...” This place is so cold, but Ember is _warm,_ like a candle in the darkness. Without thinking, she tries to turn her head and nuzzle into her chest. The pounding ache in her skull doesn’t matter, she just wants to get closer. “M-Mother...”

Ember says nothing, just runs gentle fingers through her hair. As badly as she wants to just sink into that comforting feeling and forget everything else, there’s an itch at the back of her mind that says that this is _wrong._ And despite her attempts to ignore it, she can’t help but notice what it’s trying to tell her. 

She wouldn’t have been able to hear it clearly, anyway, with her burnt-up ear; but even with that side of her head pressed up against Ember’s chest, she can neither hear nor feel any hint of a heartbeat. Her own is just as unnervingly still and silent. The beaten black leather of the jacket against her skin seems to maintain its proper texture, but it lacks any distinctive scent. The same went for the curtain of red hair hanging near her face; her father had mentioned a few times how his wife usually had the scents of leather, hot metal, and cinnamon clinging to her, but none of those are present here. 

And speaking of metal...She tries as best she can to glance over at her mother’s other hand, the one still clad in her custom-made glove: black leather, with thick plates of metal riveted to the back, palm, and knuckles. According to her father, Ember had had so much fun teaching herself to fight with them, using her Semblance to heat the plates and the heavy steel bars of her heels up white-hot to deliver truly devastating attacks. Cinder had loved the stories, and admired her mother’s style, not only for how creatively she utilized her Semblance but for how she had made sure that every single time she struck an opponent, she would leave a lasting mark, regardless of how hard the hit had been. (And of whether the metal was heated; the edges were razor-sharp, after all.) Everyone she touched would never forget her, would feel her in their flesh forever. She had liked the idea of that, very much. 

But, she realizes, despite there only being a thin layer of fabric between them, she can’t feel the points or the chill of metal on her leg at all. And despite how tightly Ember is holding her, the older woman’s body feels...numb, somehow. As if...

No. No, that can’t be right, this _is_ real and Ember _is_ here. This place is _not_ a dream, not an endless abyss, it’s just the bottom of the vault, she was --

The memories -- and the pain and clarity that come with them -- hit her as hard and as suddenly as a lightning bolt. Raven, the fall, the _crash,_ she...She couldn’t have...!

“Mother...?” The word comes out so much smaller than she’d meant it to.

Ember looks down at her, and though Cinder can tell that she’s trying to conceal it, she seems distraught at her daughter’s tone. “Shh, hon. It’s all right, I promise -- ”

 _“Mother.”_ It’s stronger this time, punctuated with a nudge of her head against Ember’s shoulder. She does not look away from her mother’s eyes, as her insides go cold again. “I’m dead. She killed me.”

For once, she is _hoping_ that she will be told that she’s wrong. But instead, Ember sighs heavily. “Yes. She did. How else did you think I could have found you?”

Her eye widens, though the shock is, surprisingly, muted. All her life, the thought of death had always --

_(frightened her)_

_\-- enraged her,_ had always been something she had fought viciously to keep at bay...And yet now, when it has finally caught her in its jaws, she can’t seem to feel anything at all. Truth be told, her mind still seems scrambled; try as she might to reach the memories of her life, they slip away like the last strands of a dream. 

Silver eyes, green eyes, grey eyes, red eyes; _three_ pairs of red eyes, that couldn’t be more different...

Wet blood on her skin, the pull of a bowstring and _thud_ of an arrow hitting home, burning glass in her hands, a thin, soft body pressing up against her own...

Biting lips and mouth to shreds to hold back screams, cold hands on her body, bruised bones and trembling legs, fire in her veins...

Cinder tries to miss them, hurt for them, rage at them, feel _something_ for them. But, she finds she cannot, as if they had all happened to somebody else a world away. Maybe another time, she would have had the right reaction, fight and scream and struggle against oblivion the way she has for the past twenty-three years. She feels like that is what she should still be doing, but can’t quite reach why that is.

Instead, here and now...She is just so, so _tired._ Sleeping forever doesn’t sound like such a horrifying idea after all. Her eyelid droops, and her breath leaves her in a long, dry rattle. She lets herself go limp, sinking into her mother’s embrace. With some effort, she moves her right hand to touch Ember’s bare wrist, and with her left...Oh. Her left arm is gone again. There’s only the stump. She supposes it makes sense; Grimm don’t go anywhere when they die, after all. Some long-forgotten part of her tells her she should count herself lucky that her own soul isn’t lost; there's no way that anybody has done the right things with her remains, shattered down there at the bottom of the vault.

Ember notices where her daughter’s attention has gone, and smiles wryly. “Yeah, _that_ thing’s not coming with us. Sorry if you were missing it.”

Cinder gives her head a shake; it’s not needed anymore, anyway, and it must make it easier on Ember. She's surprised, however, to hear snickering from her mother about it.

“You know, don't tell him I said this, but it's almost a good thing your father’s already dead. Because if he weren't, a fair few of your life choices would have given him several fatal heart attacks by now.”

Only one word of that gets her attention, and wakes her back up a bit. “Father...? He’s here?”

“Oh, yes. Ash has been waiting a very long time for the three of us to be together again. He’s never been in any rush, though. He’s always been so patient...” Ember swallows, and can’t quite meet her eyes as she goes on. “I mean, so was I. You know damn well how badly I wanted you to live, don’t you?”

Of course she knows. Does Ember think that she’s ever been allowed to _forget,_ Cinder thinks with a tinge of bitterness? At least now, she’ll be able to ask the question that’s stuck with her from the second she was old enough to understand where her mother had gone...and more importantly, who was responsible.

“Why? You knew what was going to happen to you, and to us. Why did you let me do it to you?”

At that, Ember’s expression turns sharp, her eyes narrowed and fierce. “Because I’m selfish.”

She blinks, stares blankly, and again a hollow laugh escapes Ember. “Don’t act surprised. I know that my dear, devoted Ash told you everything about me down to the last meaningless detail. I never in my life did anything unless I was paid to do it, or it was exactly what I wanted to do. And I wanted you to survive, so I’d get a chance at creating a kid who would become better than me, more than I felt like getting rid of you and passing that chance up. For that, I was willing to take the risk that I wouldn’t be there for you. And you've more than surpassed my expectations, haven't you, little devil?”

“I...” Anger starts to spark again through the numb block in her chest, but it's almost immediately drowned in shame. All her power, and what had she been able to do with it? She can't...quite remember who she'd fought, with it and for it, but the fact is, she's the one who landed here and not them, so that must be a bad sign. “I never did. I _failed -- ”_

“No, you didn't!” Ember shouts, stopping short, and Cinder can’t tell whether the sudden jerk of the older woman’s body had shaken her or if she’d really startled that badly. “Your goals were your goals, they never had anything to do with me! All I wanted was for you to grow strong enough to live however _you_ wanted, to do things that I could never dream of doing. I’m satisfied with what I’ve seen you do, and I’m proud of you! So proud!”

Though there is still no echo, Ember’s words seem to ring in the deep silence. Her cheeks turn faintly pink, but she does not take the admission back, nor does she break eye contact. Cinder stares back at her with even greater shock. “You...?”

Ember gives a shallow, face-saving laugh, and looks down at her with so much raw affection in her eyes that Cinder feels her throat close up and her chest burn. “Yeah. You think your life wasn’t worth mine? You’re wrong.”

She has to swallow hard before answering, her voice a strangled whisper. “But I couldn't --”

“That doesn't matter. I told you, it's over now. _I'm_ here now. I’ve wanted you with me for so long, I won’t let anyone else near you again,” Ember promises, her voice impossibly sweet. She adjusts the arm around her shoulders, and brings her up a little, so she can lay a kiss on her wide-eyed daughter’s forehead. “I love you, Cinder. Isn’t that all that matters?”

 _Her name._

For a moment, every part of her shuts down.

Her mother’s first and last words to her, finally complete. No one, she realizes, has ever said that to her with no strings attached. 

She bites back an overwhelmed noise and forces herself not to shake -- some small but insistent voice at the back of her mind snaps that she’s acted weak and childish enough already -- but still she presses her face into her mother’s shoulder, doing her best to throw her remaining arm around her neck. So cold, so warm, she can’t seem to get close enough. Her heart is still dead silent, but there’s _something_ twisting and constricting inside her chest. 

Ember seems pleased by it. “That’s right, darling. No more fear. No more pain. Just rest now, okay? Rest,” she orders gently, wrapping her arms tighter around her daughter and continuing on their way, the distinctive clicking of her heels starting up again.

Cinder obediently lays still and relaxes as best she can, but can’t resist one more question, that it occurs to her she really should have asked sooner. “Mother...Where are you taking me?”

“Don’t be nervous. We’re going home. Everything will be all right.”

 _Home._

She closes her eye. That sounds perfect to her.

And so they go, calm and silent. The darkness seems to get deeper and heavier the further in, but that doesn’t matter; she barely feels it. The chill on her skin is gone, and the pain is, for one final time, a distant memory that Cinder can’t call back and doesn’t care to. Her world has narrowed down to the protective arms around her, the fingers still brushing and stroking her hair. Everything else has faded into the shadows, left behind. Her father will be here soon, and there won’t be anything between them anymore; she can tell him everything that he needs to hear and she never got to say. And her mother...Her mother will never leave her again. 

Ember never seems to get tired, no matter how far they walk. The steady rhythm and the soft hum of her voice are comforting, easy to lose her thoughts and sink into. It lulls her into and out of something like sleep, like floating in the waves of a calm ocean. She loses track of how much time has passed, but after what must be a long while, the thought crosses her mind that she should ask. 

“Mother -- ?” 

Her voice comes out soft and wispy, and it takes some effort to peel her eye open to look. As she does so, a tiny part of her mind registers that it’s silent, and wonders where the noise went...

Only to realize, to her immediate shock, that she is alone.

“Mother?! Mother!”

Cinder hears her own frightened voice calling out, but she isn’t moving her own jaw and tongue. She can’t. Her body has locked up completely, every part of her held in place by the cold and the crawling shadows, so tightly she can’t even tremble. She doesn’t know where she is, whether she is suspended in the darkness or frozen and helpless on the ground again. She is nowhere and nothing, and Ember is _gone,_ vanished into thin air.

_“Mother!”_

The darkness presses in, grabbing at her and twisting her bones, _suffocating --_

Her eye flashes open. 

The blinding white light and chill in the air sting the sensitive tissue, tears welling up immediately. She’s still lying down, but there’s definitely something beneath her, hard and flat. There’s a sharp, acidic scent all around her, that she recognizes should be burning her nostrils and mouth, but somehow isn’t. It still _hurts,_ though. Unthinkingly, she starts to move and discovers a fraction of a second later that that was a terrible mistake. Pain shoots through her body, burning her down to the smallest veins and muscles; her bare skin feels like it’s been scalded.

Her heart leaps into her throat, and a shrill, insistent ringing assaults her ears. A yelp tries to escape her but it’s caught at the base of her throat. 

_“Mmpf?!”_

_What?! No, that’s not right, I_ could _talk again!_

But that's as far as her thoughts go, before something heavy and freezing cold bears down hard on her forehead, and extinguishes them all.

“I do hope you're paying attention this time.” Salem’s eyes are burning scarlet, and there is not the slightest hint of leniency in her face. “Because you have exhausted every last bit of my patience with you.”

Stark terror seizes Cinder, her stomach turning horribly. She has been under that unforgiving gaze for years, but these are the moments she dreads with every fiber of her being. As the memories start to flow back into her head, she knows she has no excuse for what she’s done wrong, and worse, this time she has not even the smallest success that she can present to her master to win her mercy. But still, her immediate instinct is to hastily try and explain herself; her mouth is already open to --

Wait. Wait a minute, she hadn’t...!

She tries to speak, but only stifled whimpering comes out. Her throat is hot and sore, but she can't feel any part of her numbed mouth at all, and it only takes that instant to realize why: it’s held wide open by the thick tube jammed inside and shoved down her throat. She chokes on a startled shout, barely able to swallow. Her tongue is pressed down to the bottom of her mouth, and her teeth reflexively gnaw at the black silicone. 

Salem is unfazed by her ensuing muffled, frantic protests. “Such a disappointment...After all I’ve done for you, Cinder, I expect far better. Perhaps I have been too indulgent with you, for you to so drastically forget your place. The battle at Haven, and more importantly, the Relic of Knowledge, were lost because of _you.”_

_No! It wasn't my fault! I'm sorry!_

It comes out completely incoherent, like the squeals of a stuck pig. 

“Quiet. I don’t want to hear your excuses. You deserve a far steeper punishment than what I choose to give you. But, you do still have your purpose. And I have no desire to break you, my dear. So instead, I will grant you another gift, and you will have your body back even more powerful than before.”

_My body? What..._

Her head feels like it had been poured full of cement, but she still forces herself to lift it enough to look down past the curving tube at her supine form. 

Barely a second passes before she starts screaming.

She can barely see her own body, despite not being afforded even the mild dignity of a hospital gown and bandages this time. Between the electrodes taped onto into her skin, there are more tubes than she can count stuck into the veins of her right arm, hand, and legs, attached to IV bags on either side of the bed. And being pumped into her through them is dark, viscous fluid that sears her blood and makes every vein rise up pitch-black against her skin, that looks just like her left arm...Her left arm -- !

Though she can’t see evidence of any injuries, her body is still weak, most of it slowly turning the pale gray and sickening purple of a bruise. But the Grimm flesh has stretched to twice its normal length, the spindly fingers spreading out like the branches of a tree in winter. It throbs and pulses with every drop flowing into it, and sends fresh pain spiraling through her body with every movement. Her head is spinning, her muscles strain and burn, and her innards are roiling from...Oh, _gods._ The churning in her stomach isn’t from fear, and the tube in her mouth isn’t black: the same fluid is moving slowly but surely down her throat, too, turning her inside and out.

Primal horror surges through Cinder, taking her over and shattering all rational thought. Through the tube blocking her throat, she screams louder and harder than she ever has in her life. She tries to leap from the bed and run, but only succeeds in throwing herself over and over into the thick, padded straps wrapped around her limbs, waist, neck, and head. They hold her down so tightly that she can't move an inch off the bed, but she can't process that enough to stop.

 _No! NO! This is..._ She shuts her eye tight. _This is a dream, it's just a bad dream, it's not happening, I'm going to wake up! Wake up! Wake up! WAKE UP!_

The sting of Salem’s claws digging into her hairline, just deep enough to draw blood, forces her eye open again. “Be still, girl. Be grateful you are still alive to experience this pain.”

Cinder can barely hear her through the ringing in her ears; she couldn't stop herself from struggling against her restraints if she tried, even if she could remember how to calm down. Tears are streaming down her face, and her whole agonized body is racked with screaming sobs. She writhes in the straps, heedless of how it hurts to keep thrashing her body against them, and wails even more shrilly. 

She can feel the Grimm fluid inside her, _alive inside her,_ she can't _take this!_ Any sound she makes is unintelligible, no matter how hard she's trying to make herself understood, so all she can do is look up pleadingly at her master.

 _Please don't do this to me, please don't do this, I don’t want it, I’ll be better, I swear I will, just please get it out of me!_

Salem’s eyes narrow. “Cinder, _behave._ After the way you’ve disappointed me, it would be unwise of you to disobey any further.”

She seems ready to say more, but is interrupted by the clatter of the lab doors opening and Watts striding in towards them. 

“Pardon me, ma’am...I heard our subject was awake?” He, too, is unfazed by Cinder’s utter panic, which is no more than she expected; compared to the human experiments that had gotten him chased out of Atlas, this is nothing. “You know, the children can hear her outside, as well. They’re...getting rather agitated.”

 _Emerald? Mercury?_

Cinder’s heart races even faster. She remembers, a year ago, Emerald’s warm hand around hers, letting her cling as hard as she needed to; Mercury’s arm around her, propping her up as she tried to walk on her ruined leg. Her mind is torn between _don't come here, stay away from me_ and _please help me, get me out of here!_

“Tell Hazel to keep them out. Clearly I was too gentle last time; Cinder is going to learn her lesson on her own.”

“Very good,” Watts agrees, tapping out the message on his scroll. He glances down at his terrified teammate, listens to her whimpering and uncontrollably fast breathing, and smirks. “Are you done crying for your mother, girl?”

Her eye widens, and a strangled sound comes from the back of her throat. 

_Ember...Mother..._

For a desperate moment, she tries to go back, to return in her mind to that dark and peaceful place she’d been yanked out of and forget that this nightmare was happening to her. But it’s no good: the bright clarity of life has disappeared from that face, leaving only the hard eyes and frozen smile of a lusterless old photograph. The gently caressing hand on her face might as well have been a moment of wind, for all she can remember of its touch. Even the voice is lost; she can picture the mouth moving but not a single word comes out. 

Ember is gone, ever the ghost, ever the shadow that she can't reach and will never save her. 

_What did she say? It was important...What was she saying?_

She can’t think of it, no matter how she strains to remember. Beside her, though, they’re still talking about her as if she can’t hear them. 

“May I be of any further assistance, ma’am?”

“For now, it’s running smoothly, so we will continue exactly as we discussed. Monitor her vital signs and switch out her IV bags as needed.”

“Shall I sedate her? She seems determined to put up a fight.”

“Not this time. There’s no point in doing this at all if she doesn’t remember, now, is there?”

“Certainly not.” 

As he rounds the bed to reach the medical equipment on the other side, he ignores Cinder, but Salem turns her full attention back to her Maiden, who is still trying to tear herself loose. 

“Now, Cinder...” All of a sudden, her voice is low and soothing, as she brushes Cinder’s bangs out of her face. “There's no need for you to struggle so. You should know by now that I don’t like to hurt you. This is for your own good. You asked me to make you powerful, didn’t you? That’s what I’m going to do. Don’t fight it, accept it. This is what you want.”

“Uooohh!” On a wild, desperate impulse, she tries to cough and spit out the tube, but it's lodged too far in. _“Uuoooohhh!”_

Her blood has turned to fire under the stinging tubes, every innard is turning inside out as more fluid is pumped down her throat, and dark spots are beginning to cloud her vision. She thinks she can hear another voice shouting from outside the room, but she can’t tell; the sound of her pulse pounding in her ears blocks everything else out. She can feel it inside her, seeping into every cell, clawing into her consciousness and eating at her mind, as she descends into agony.

 _I don’t want this. Please, I don’t want it!_

She doesn’t have a choice. It was what she asked for. 

_I want myself back, I want to stay_ me!

Power always comes at a price, she was foolish to forget, and not one she gets to pick.

_I want to see my mother and father...I want to go home!_

Home is a lie, she’s never had one. Mother and father are gone, and she is alone.

 _I...I want to die._

Body and soul are no longer her own; she will find no such mercy. 

She can’t fight anymore. Whatever’s inside her is far stronger than Cinder can ever hope to be. With one final, sepulchral moan, she falls back into the dark.


End file.
